


Under the Blood Red Moon

by Freya_Ishtar



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gen, Humor, Romance, UST, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25270576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freya_Ishtar/pseuds/Freya_Ishtar
Summary: Alice Cullen hated Jacob Black before they'd ever crossed paths. More than she hated any other werewolf, more than her family believed her capable. And it was all because of an abruptly-ended vision. She'd known the first time their eyes met that he was the one with the power to destroy her patiently built world. All it would take was a touch at the absolute wrong moment.
Relationships: Carlisle Cullen/Esme Cullen, Edward Cullen/Bella Swan, Emmett Cullen/Rosalie Hale, Jacob Black/Alice Cullen, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Sam Uley/Emily Young
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	1. I Hated You Before I Met You

**Author's Note:**

> I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED! I was doing a re-read of the series as research for Of Chilled Skin and Warm Breath, and early in book one, I remembered the confrontation between Alice & Jacob in New Moon. I thought 'it's unlikely she really saw him as a threat to Belward, so isn't her vehemence toward him disproportionate, even for the fact that their kinds don't get along?' So here we are.
> 
> (update: A friend [you know who you are] linked me a deleted scene from BD, pt 1, of a quiet, actually sweet, discussion between Alice and Jacob and that did NOT help matters with staving this off)
> 
> Also, my feelings on Jasper/Alice is that they're platonic soulmates. Any noteworthy physical affection between them came solely from the films.
> 
> Lastly, no Renesmee in my fics.
> 
> *************************  
> CULTURAL DISCLAIMERS:
> 
> 1) There may be discrepancies between portrayals of the Quileute in fanfiction (mine, included) and the actual history/culture of the tribe. The portrayals in this work are based on the fictional representation of the Quileute tribe in the Twilight novels (& may include information I dug up myself).
> 
> 2) Many Native/Indigenous cultures view hair as an extension of one's spirit. I don't imagine creatures who are more in tune with their spirit severing this natural conduit for the sake of convenience/comfort. Therefore, the werewolves in my take on Meyer's world have long hair.
> 
> *************************  
> COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: I do not own Twilight, or any affiliated characters, and make no profit—in any form—from this work.
> 
> *************************  
> CANON CONTENT NOTE:
> 
> This fic, for the first handful of chapters, will contain a lot of dialogue/scenes referenced directly from the books, but the narration will differ. These are key moments that, when viewed from a perspective besides Bella's, serve as the linchpins of this fic. So, once those instances are reestablished in Alice's (or 3rd person) PoV, giving said scenes new context, we will be able to leave the canon-compliant content behind and really get into this story ;)

She’d told Edward once before about how her visions sometimes failed. People changing their minds, new circumstances coming into play, but she’d never told her brother about the visions that ended entirely without warning. A bit like watching a movie and the screen going dark right before the final scene.

She’d never actually made the connection, herself—never knew there was a connection to _be_ made—until she saw Bella ‘die’ on account of one such abruptly-ended vision, only to find Bella still very much alive and standing before her in Chief Swan’s house.

In that moment, her mind raced to block the link from forming, and yet it had. Rather rudely against her will. The vision that kept coming to her, the one she didn’t want to see, the one that shut down her senses seemingly mid-moment. She had always thought perhaps she’d been witnessing the scene of her own death.

Shame, it had felt weirdly appropriate that something should end her in the moments when the light of the blood-red full moon overhead was splashing her pearlescent skin in stains of crimson.

But now, as she listened to Bella explain about how she’d survived her fatal-seeming dive from the cliffs, Alice knew differently. As she inhaled the scent drifting off her friend, she comprehended how wrong she’d been.

This was the scent that invaded the air around her in the scant seconds before she stopped being able to see. Not just any werewolf. _This_ werewolf.

Now she understood that would be the moment when this werewolf would interfere directly with _her_ life.

But then, she told herself, perhaps she wasn’t wrong. Maybe it was that this werewolf Bella mentioned, this Jacob who was going to kill her. Not a comforting thought by any stretch of the imagination, but at least it made sense.

She sniffed at Bella’s hair, at her shirt on the shoulder. She was oblivious to the way Bella froze, clearly feeling unsafe at witnessing Alice’s oft-kept-under-wraps predatory behavior.

This . . . it was definitely the same smell. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said in a hushed tone, unaware she’d even let the words slip out as she once more sniffed at her friend.

“What are you doing?”

But Alice didn’t hear her. “Who was with you out there just now? It sounded like you were arguing.”

Bella frowned, her forehead creasing as she shook her head. “Jacob Black. He’s . . . sort of my best friend, I guess. At least he was . . . .”

Alice’s mind was working, again, not permitting her to really entertain curiosity about what the human girl might be thinking. Black? A descendant of the werewolf who’d made the treaty with Carlisle. Maybe that was what this was. Maybe he only smelled like a werewolf. That would be a relief, wouldn’t it?

“What?” Bella demanded, her voice just sharp enough to gain her some of Alice’s flagging attention.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure what it means.”

Shrugging, Bella tried to be helpful. “Well, I’m not dead, at least.”

Alice rolled her eyes, willing to let the conversation move to where it always did when talking to Bella—a place that revolved around Edward. She’d just had months of Edward’s morose attitude, and his conversations that always moved to a place that revolved around Bella. She loved them both dearly, but there were moments she wished they’d just run off together and stop tormenting everyone around them with their melodrama.

Postcards were still a thing, after all.

But that only lasted a moment before Alice’s curiosity sprang to the foreground, once more. “So, if the currents were too much for you, how did this Jacob manage?”

“Jacob is . . . strong.”

Alice’s brows lifted, her currently black eyes holding Bella’s gaze. Was Bella hinting at what Alice thought she was? And would Jacob have told her if he was?

“See, well, he’s . . . sort of a werewolf,” Bella finally blurted out. She hurried on to explain about the Quileutes and their awareness of Carlisle. She asked a question, but once more Alice didn't seem to hear it.

The vampire could only stare a moment as she tried to recover her senses. Bella’s best friend _was_ a werewolf, after all? There was no way this would bode well, but maybe this was as good a time as any to let Bella in on the purpose behind all the sniffing. “Huh. I guess that explains the smell. But does it explain what I didn’t see?” It was simple enough to conclude that the presence of werewolves caused her sight to fail her, but it didn’t tell her anything of the _why_.

“The smell?”

Alice felt the bridge of her nose crinkle. “You smell awful.” And she did, but . . . but there was something more to it. Something buried beneath that which Alice couldn’t quite put her finger on. “A werewolf? Are you sure about that?”

“Very sure,” Bella answered, an unpleasant expression flitting across her features. “I guess you weren’t with Carlisle the last time there were werewolves here in Forks?”

“No, I hadn’t found him yet.” Alice lapsed into a pensive silence for a few breaths. Then the realization struck her and her eyes widened. Treaty or no treaty, she and this Jacob were both close with Bella. There was no way they wouldn’t cross paths—Forks was many things, large not among them. “Your best friend is a werewolf?”

Bella nodded.

“How long has this been going on?”

Alice expected to hear many things, she thought. Bella’s edgy-voiced answer of ‘only a few weeks’ was not anywhere on the list.

This made things worse. Infinitely worse. Maybe she’d been right and he was going to be the death of her. “A _young_ werewolf?” Alice couldn’t help going off. “Even worse. Edward was right—you’re a magnet for danger. Weren’t you supposed to be staying out of trouble?”

Bella had the audacity to look hurt, but then she was always wounded by people not supporting her thoughtlessness. “There’s nothing wrong with werewolves,” she said.

“Until they lose their tempers!” Alice couldn’t believe she had to argue this with anyone, let alone Bella. Bella knew how dangerous vampires were, she should be able to puzzle out that anything capable of killing a vampire was not the sort of creature one could befriend _without_ risking their life. “Leave it to you, Bella. Anyone else would be better off when the vampires left town. But _you_ have to start hanging out with the first monsters you can find!”

“No, Alice,” Bella said, completely oblivious to Alice’s darkening mood. “The vampires didn’t really leave. Not all of them.”

That comment brought Alice up short. She paused, letting herself listen as Bella filled her in on all she’d missed. Laurent’s death at the hands—or teeth and claws, rather—of the Quileute pack, Victoria’s return, the strange flame on the water just before she’d nearly drowned. The death of her father's friend and the state he was in.

There was a small, petty part of Alice that wondered how Bella had managed to notice her father’s emotional state when it didn’t have anything to do with her own problems. But that’s what it was. Small. Petty. Alice banished the thought as soon as it entered her mind.

It simply wasn’t in her nature to be petty like that. She could only guess it was some adverse reaction to this surprising news about werewolves returning to the area.

“Our leaving didn’t do you any good at all, did it?”

Bella laughed and it was an unpleasant sound. High-pitched, tinny . . . a noise a little like madness. “That was never the point, though, was it? It’s not like you left for my benefit.”

Alice felt her features pinch sourly. Actually, they _had_. What part of that hadn’t she gotten? There was no explaining to Bella when she was wrong about something, though, and Alice knew it.

She tried to leave then, to excuse herself, but Bella talked her into staying. It wasn’t long before she was back to her hemming and hawing over Edward. And Alice knew they never should’ve left. It had been bad for Edward. Bad for Bella. She should’ve simply left with Jasper and let the others stay behind. Let _her_ best friend get some air, some space. But no. Edward had thought it was best, and Carlisle always listened to Edward more than any of his other ‘children.’

Just after Bella lightly accused Alice of being an idiot for hoping she’d have eventually been okay after so long in Edward’s absence, the phone rang.

Assuming it was her father, Bella dragged herself across the house to the kitchen, tugging Alice along behind her.

She answered the call, her tone both tired and expectant. “Charlie?”

“ _No, it’s me_.”

“Jake!”

Alice didn’t need Bella’s shout of the caller’s name to tell her who was on the other end of the line. She might not have her sight about this, but she could hear the voice through the phone. Something about it made her feel . . . off. It was the only description she could think of, and the only name she’d bother putting to it as she kept her attention on Bella’s face.

_“Just making sure you were still alive_.”

It was actually hard listening to him. Strange. What should she care if a werewolf was angry? They were always about two seconds away from having a meltdown, anyway.

“I’m fine. I told you that it wasn’t—”

“ _Yeah, got it. Bye_.”

The slamming down of the phone on his end rang in Alice’s ears a moment. Bella cradled the receiver. “That’s going to be a problem.”

Alice decided to keep the focus of this moment on Bella’s friendship with the problematic werewolf. This had nothing to do with _her_ and the sooner she reminded herself of that by addressing the issue and putting it aside, the better. “They aren’t excited I’m here.”

“Not especially. But it’s none of their business, anyway.”

Nodding—there, reminded, just like that—Alice let Bella talk her into explaining why she was back in Forks. Let Bella talk her into staying over for the night. She did miss her friend, so it didn’t take much convincing.

For both of their sakes, however, she extracted herself from Bella’s presence to go hunting. She was mindful to stay clear of the tribe’s territory or any place that smelled even remotely like werewolves.

* * *

Jacob sat back from the phone, glaring so hard it was a wonder the plastic didn’t start melting. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he dropped his head into his hands, his fingers curling to grip at his hair.

Fucking vampires.

Everything had been going great. Well, maybe not great, but good. Things were as normal as they could be when you were a werewolf. And now this?

Goddamn parasites.

He was a little glad his father was off with Sue and Charlie right now—even if it was for a tragic reason—so he wouldn’t see how his son was barely holding himself together. He’d put Billy through enough with having him lie to Bella for him those first few weeks after he’d changed, he didn’t want to keep doing that, but he knew if the leeches were back, that might be unavoidable. Dad was dealing with enough without _his_ mess, too.

Stupid blood suckers.

They were going to make him break his promise to Bella and it wouldn’t even be his fault, not really. He couldn’t be there for her if the Cullens were back in her life, it just couldn’t work.

Forcing a few deep breaths—they couldn’t exactly be called calming, there didn’t seem to be any calming down for a werewolf, not entirely—he relinquished his grip on his hair and let himself fall back against the shabby sofa. Far too tall for the piece of regular-person-sized furniture, the top of his head bonked against the wall above it. He didn’t even notice.

No. No. He’d go back tomorrow and try to talk to her. Maybe he’d pop in on his way to the funeral. Just a few minutes. Their friendship deserved that much. He knew the others wouldn’t approve. They’d never let him go alone once he told them about Bella’s cold-blooded guest.

Icy, stone-skinned bastards.

But if this was the end, then he supposed it was just as well. The smell of vampires, alone, was enough to keep any of his kind at bay. Weird. It didn’t smell quite like the one they’d killed, or the redheaded female they were chasing. There was something in the scent he’d picked up from Bella’s visitor that made him curious in a way he didn’t like.

Curious in a way he knew he needed to stay far away from.

In a way that made him hope her guest was long gone by the time he showed up tomorrow.


	2. Even Absent, You Bother Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Just a quick reminder** The dialogue in these opening chapters is taken directly from the books. It is the narration and characters' emotions, thoughts & internal reactions that are original content, and serve to give the scenes in question different context and nuance than in the canon.
> 
> **I'm sorry** These opening chapters (because they hinge on canon dialogue and there's only so much wiggle-room for background changes while keeping to that pre-set content) are probably going to feel boring AF. *sad laugh*
> 
> **Lastly** (though this is pretty insignificant, depending on your perspective) The chapters will not be numbered (unless you count the auto-numbering the archive systems do), they will only have titles reflecting the eventual pairing's feelings toward each other at the time of that particular chapter's events.

Alice was perfectly aware Bella had awoken on the living room sofa the next morning as she talked with Charlie in the kitchen—as the unfortunately-in-the-dark, yet always kind, human cooked her a breakfast she couldn't eat, but would pick at to give him the illusion she was taking nibbles here and there—but this conversation was for Charlie's benefit. For her own. And so, she carried on as though she didn't know her friend was awake and listening.

And perhaps there was a consideration that letting Bella hear her father's side of what these past months had been like would be helpful to their dynamic as parent and child, since neither of them tended toward being talkative by any stretch of the imagination.

Alice and Charlie spoke about how hard Bella had taken the separation from Edward. Alice wasn't much surprised by that, though the idea of Isabella Swan throwing a full-on temper tantrum when her parents had tried to pack her up for a trip away from Forks was a bit of a shock. Bella wasn't very emotive as a general rule, so to picture her behaving in such an extreme manner was almost comical in an unintended, theatrical sort of way. Given the seriousness of the situation, Alice felt bad for even spotting a modicum of humor in it.

It was more than evident in his tone how difficult it had been for him to witness said behavioral extreme.

Between a successful hunt last night and Charlie's warm welcome this morning—which she hadn't been expecting what with the current personal tragedy the man was dealing with—Alice had been able to put the strangeness of the Jacob Black situation out of her head for the time being. And for that, she was nothing but grateful. She skirted even thinking his name to avoid letting herself spin on the topic, simply referring to any potential thoughts that reflected on last night's troubling discussion as being about 'that werewolf', and then pushing them neatly aside before they could even fully form.

"We could hardly talk," Charlie said, pursing his lips as he paused, nodding with the recollection. "I was so worried about saying something that would upset her—the littlest thing would make her flinch—and she never volunteered anything. She would just answer if I asked her something."

Alice frowned. Oh, well, _now_ this made sense. It was nothing she could tell Charlie, of course. Nothing she could actually explain to Bella, either, because she might not understand it—though, more likely, she would refuse to believe it—but at least now, given Charlie's unwitting testimony, Alice understood the depth of their connection. She comprehended how stupid they'd all been to think Bella and Edward's relationship could be severed by something as simple and changeable as distance.

"She was alone all the time. She didn't call her friends back, and after a while, they stopped calling. It was _Night of the Living Dead_ around here. I still hear her screaming in her sleep . . . ." Charlie shuddered as he tried to dislodge the memory before it could take hold.

She heard a responsive sigh from the living room sofa, but the sound was too faint for Charlie Swan's human ears. A pang of sympathy ringing through her, Alice responded, unable to force even a hint of hope or happiness into her tone, "I'm so sorry, Charlie."

"It's not _your_ fault," he said, pretending he didn't notice the faint wince that passed across her perfect, doll-like features. He knew she comprehended perfectly well whom he meant. "You were always a good friend to her."

Lowering her gaze to the tabletop, she gave a sigh of her own, soft and quiet. "She seems better now, though."

"Yeah." Charlie smiled, but only a little. "Ever since she started hanging out with Jacob Black, I've noticed a real improvement."

What he _didn't_ notice was the way Alice's eyes shut tight at the mention of that name, angry little lines carving the porcelain skin at the corners, nor the way she squared her delicate jaw.

He went on to elaborate on that point. Color returning to Bella's cheeks, light coming back into her eyes. How much happier she seemed. A sour tinge circled in the pit of Alice's stomach. Because she couldn't imagine a dangerous, volatile creature like a werewolf being such a good influence on anyone's life, she told herself. Because her friend had fed herself a fantasy in which they _weren't_ monsters just as surely as vampires weren't.

That second bit of logic would probably be more apt if Bella had the sense to see vampires as monsters. She seemed under some illusion that because one group of their kind had chosen to accept and protect her, it somehow stripped them of being truly dangerous to her with the exception of a few individuals. As though she was incapable of grasping that it was the other way around, wherein only a precious few were the exception in posing her no true danger.

Had the incident with Jasper taught her nothing? The girl had almost died on account of a papercut for God's sake.

A pensive frown pinched Charlie's mouth downward as he dug into his own breakfast. When he spoke again—showing the courteous restraint to finish chewing and swallow his food before opening his mouth—his voice was a bit hard, protective, maybe. "He's a year or so younger than her, and I know she used to think of him as a friend, but I think maybe it's something more now, or headed in that direction, anyway."

There was definitely an edge to his tone. Alice only watched his face, her own expression open, calm. If he glanced up from his plate, she wanted him to see that she was listening, not simply sitting there letting him talk.

"Jake's old for his years," he said, and Alice realized she sort of hoped that wasn't true. Considering 'that werewolf' to be some irresponsible child of 16 or 17 made it easier to dismiss him out of hand. "He's taken care of his father physically the way Bella took care of her mother emotionally. It matured him. He's a good-looking kid too—takes after his mom's side. He's good for Bella, you know."

Charlie did look up, then. Probably to gauge Alice's response. She knew he wasn't trying to push the point of how much better off Bella probably was in Jacob's company rather than Edward's with _her_ , so much as he was trying to impress it upon _Edward Cullen's sister_. For her part, Alice only offered a mirthless grin, nodding in understanding. She discarded Charlie's mention of this troublesome werewolf being good-looking, because it didn't matter if he was some sort of true-to-life Adonis; he was nothing but a bothersome complication in Bella's life.

But she couldn't say that. And she didn't want to, anyway. She had her misgivings about the . . . creature, but he had helped her friend and that mattered more, didn't it?

She shrugged, offering in a light, charitable tone, "Then it's good she has him."

Charlie seemed to crumble in on himself a bit, then. He exhaled long and loud, and Alice thought he must've been expecting her to fight him about it, being that she _was_ Edward Cullen's sister.

"Okay, so I guess that's overstating things. I don't know . . . ." The man sank a bit in his seat as he wavered on that point, his gaze taking on a sad glimmer. "Even with Jacob, now and then I see something in her eyes, and I wonder if I've ever grasped how much pain she's really in. It's not normal, Alice, and it . . . it frightens me. Not normal at all. Not like someone . . . left her, but like someone died."

Alice pushed aside her plate and—her skin warm thanks to the dish of warm food and mug of warmer tea she'd just been holding—gently rested her hands over his on the table. She didn't say anything, simply let him have the silence to collect his thoughts.

"I don't know if she's going to get over it—I'm not sure if it's in her nature to heal from something like this. She's always been such a constant little thing. She doesn't get past things, change her mind."

"She's one of a kind." Alice wished she could at least offer Charlie the comfort of telling him that Bella's reaction hadn't been entirely within her control.

"And Alice . . . ." He paused again, seeming uncertain of how to continue. "Now, you know how fond I am of you, and I can tell that she's happy to see you, but . . . I'm a little worried about what your visit will do to her."

She nodded, her expression turning just a bit grim. "So am I, Charlie, so am I. I wouldn't have come if I'd had any idea." Yes, she'd have stayed _far_ away from the house and simply called instead, much less risk of running into werewolves that way, as well. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, honey." Charlie shook his head. "Who knows? Maybe it will be good for her."

Alice felt a little terrible then for so many reasons—for the idea that her visit might harm Bella. For the thought that she might've considered staying away over the intrusion of some stupid dog into her friend's life. For the strange, prickly, ill feeling that twisted through her every now and again that she didn't quite understand or recognize the source of.

"I hope you're right."

She went back to picking at her food as he fell silent, concentrating on his own plate. She made a point not to glance at the entryway. Bella wasn't ready to show herself yet, so Alice'd let the charade carry on.

After his plate was clear, he let out another long breath, like he was bracing himself to speak. "Alice? I have to ask you something."

She nodded, her tawny eyes innocently wide. "Go ahead."

There was no hiding the anger buried in his voice as he asked, "He's not coming back to visit, too, is he?"

She'd known this was coming, and she couldn't blame him for his concern. Anyone was likely to feel the same in his shoes. "He doesn't even know I'm here." She thought it best to downplay how often she reached out to her difficult, despondent brother. "The last time I spoke with him, he was in South America."

"That's something at least." He made a derisive noise. "Well, I hope he's enjoying himself."

Cognizant of his reasons and feelings or not, Alice also knew Charlie wasn't being fair to Edward. She might not agree with her brother's decision, but he'd really been trying to protect Bella by leaving—no one could've known it would go so woefully wrong.

Her tone was a bit shorter than intended as she said, "I wouldn't make assumptions, Charlie."

Finally she'd given him the resistance he was looking for. He nodded, taking this as the end of the discussion and stood from the table to bring his plate to the sink. Mingling with the sound of the faucet running was the squeak of old springs from in the living room, followed by a too-loud yawn and a sleepy groan.

"Alice?"

Schooling her features, she replied, keeping her voice neutral, "I'm in the kitchen, Bella."

As his daughter made her sluggish way across the tiled floor, Charlie explained in as few words as necessary that he might be gone most of the day—assisting in the planning of his friend's funeral—and then exited the kitchen. They weren't very affectionate people, so when he left the house without giving his daughter so much as a hug or a kiss on the forehead, it wasn't unusual. What might be a sign of tension in other families was instead perfectly typical for the tiny Swan household.

Alice knew Bella was avoiding bringing up anything she'd overheard after she claimed the seat at the kitchen table her father had just vacated. When she drove the conversation deliberately toward what the Hale-Cullen clan had been up to in these past months, with the glaring exception of one member, of course, Alice let it go that way. She talked about Esme's restoration project, Carlyle and Jasper being at Cornell, Emmett and Rosalie's European honeymoon.

Though it was still a bit raw, finding the information yet not remembering any of it for herself, she recounted what she'd learned about her own past. Alice didn't know if she was supposed to feel relieved, or maybe at peace? But all it did was leave a raw, gnawing sensation in her gut, to know she had living family still out there.

To know her parents had rather everyone think she was dead than admit they'd put her in an asylum to rot in secret. Different times, of course. Tragedy was easier to bear than shame, she supposed.

Mary Alice Brandon was a stranger to Alice Cullen, and she wasn't sure she wanted those memories back, anyway. Maybe she could pretend that Mary Alice was in the grave with the fancy, weathered and aged headstone that lied and labeled her 'beloved child'—love was not a thing abandoned so easily—and that she was an entirely different person, born the day Mary Alice was said to have died.

Alice changed the subject when she felt her spirits starting to sink further—there was a dark place there inside her, deep beneath the bright and buoyant demeanor she was so known for. Like a pit, perhaps even something fancier that's name spoke more to hopelessness, despair, inescapable gloom . . . a trench? An abyss? Maybe an oubliette, like in that fantasy movie they'd watched in the theaters during one of their other 'lives' as high school students.

A place you put people to forget about them. Yes, that sounded about right. Right and entirely too reflective of the way Mary Alice Brandon's life had ended.

Her face and tone never gave away an iota of the pain that had lashed through her heart. She didn't for one second let on to Bella how much it hurt, these memories she didn't even have.

Alice let herself be the happy girl that was the only version of Alice Cullen Bella even knew, and carried on chatting with her friend until she allowed herself to let go of those weighty, negative emotions. And when Bella asked her to stay the night again, she agreed, even knowing it—again—increased her chances of encountering _that werewolf_.

With any luck—not that luck had every been a thing Alice had in ready supply—she'd be on her way once she was sure Bella was indeed okay and not once have to come face-to-face with Jacob Black.


End file.
